


All You Need

by pony_express



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 07:38:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12228495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pony_express/pseuds/pony_express
Summary: An AU! where Q is kiss-o-gram. Bond's target has employed Q's services, but Bond needs them.





	All You Need

**Author's Note:**

> Some lines have been taken from Skyfall, but, apart from the characters who belong to Ian Fleming, the rest is mine (and as so is probably awful. . .)  
> This as been on my laptop forever. I don't even remember where I was going with it. . .

**Q: The boy**

“What can I get you?” It’s a question he is asked often. Over the sound of the loud and quite frankly rubbish music, Bond makes his request. The same as always; vodka martini - shaken, not stirred.

This party or rather social gathering is where intell as told him his target will be. He’d rather be elsewhere; could easily grab the target and get the information needed on the targets way out, it’d be far more enjoyable than having to endure this. Maybe he was getting old; this was all the range these days. He was bored for sure. Nothing to keep him distracted, and no sign of the target yet either. He’d welcome any form of distraction right now.

That’s when the music dipped, and his ears stood to attention. He absently thought the music would start again louder and more annoying than the previous record and wondered why he’d gotten his hopes up. He was right, as it turns out; the music kicked up again but it was a little louder. Perhaps it was a signal to the minions that their esteemed host - and Bond’s target - had arrived.

He kept an eye out as he sipped on his vodka martini, and sure enough his target moved into eye line soon enough. Stumbling his way to the bar, a tall, skinny dark curly haired boy with his head down staring at the floor, in tow. Bond was caught by the lad; wondered why he looked so scared. His overall appearance gave the impression of a nerd, computer geek type; even had those glasses.

Sure he’d seen hundreds of targets with a timid looking sidekick. Some female and some male, and hey, he was a modern man-ish, he could see the attraction of both, he guessed. He was open enough, he liked to think. And maybe this was just techie, or maybe he was something more. His body language suggested he was more so the latter. Bond sighed, snapped his attention back to his mark. After all that was why he was there listening to shit ‘dance’ music.

He kept an eye on the young lad too; feels he has to for some reason. It helped that the boy is never too far from the target. It was time, he guessed, to make his presence known, be all charm and grace, y’know the usual. After all he’s finished his drink and well, nothing else is going down. It’s about time he made his move and got the hell out of there.

He made his way over to the target when his attentions are was once again caught by the curly haired guy. There was a man mumbling something into his target ear and then the poor guy was yanked up by that very man and after a nod from the mark, he was dragged by the wrist half way across the building. He was still being pulled along by the wrist when they made their way past Bond. Bond caught the look of panic in the guy’s eyes before he half smiled, blinked, and continue to look at the floor while being dragged along.

Bond watched for a while, noted the direction the boy was being carried off too. After to turning to look back at his mark and noting that he wasn’t going anywhere, and that actually the longer he left his introduction for more drunk his mark would be and he hoped that that would make it far easier to extract the information he needed. And yeah, it might a huge mistake of his part, but he liked to thing the guy making eye contact with him was a silent cry for help. So shoot him for being a romantic.

He set off in the direction he’d clocked them going, pushed past people and rounded corners in the usual spy way; something about his training and this situation told him it was best to move like that. He heard a noise, a groan or similar protest and moves a little quicker.

He rounded the corner and confirms his earlier assumption that the moan had come from the young man he’d set out to rescue. The bulky man who’d hurried him away had him pinned against the wall; hands behind his back so he couldn’t move and was now advancing in a bee line for his neck or mouth. From his position Bond couldn’t really tell, but he knew for sure the skinny lad didn’t want any of it. The wiggle and shudder only confirming what he alright thought. The time to act was now.

Bond ran forward with no real plan. He had a purpose though, and hoped that be enough. It was. He aimed to take out the big guys legs and in doing so he’d freed the skinny dude from being pinned. He was about to turn and yell at the boy to run, but he apparently had other ideas. And punched the bulky man in the face while Bond tackled him to the ground.

The man stayed on the ground, apparently out of shock more than anything. Bond stood and straightening his jacket, turned to face the guy he just rescued. He looked the young lad up and down a few times, licked his lips and was about to say something when the young escort lurched forward throwing his arms around him.

“Erm, you’re welcome” Bond uttered as the hug grew more awkward and uncomfortable.

The guy let go and took a step back, coughed and formally made his thanks and introduced himself as Q.

“Bond, James Bond” he replied, shaking Q’s outstretched hand. There was something odd about the guy. No one introduces themselves that formally after that had just happened. And the hug… Well, that was… Bond found a billion questions swimming around his head. Ignored asking the obvious how did you end up in this business and are you okay. Judging by Q’s action, he was more than fine. And also more than capable of handling the situation himself, giving the bulky guy was still lying on the floor.

Bond turned back, he had to check on the mark after all. It was his actual mission and however nice looking this escort was he wasn’t the reason Bond was there. One rescue was probably enough for one night, but honestly it was about time he did the job he was paid for.

He found the guy silently following him, in similar fashion to how he was following the mark earlier. He turned to face the man and questioned his actions;

“Why are you following me? Is that what happens - you… You get taken by a man and are at his mercy until another come and takes you away and then your his and so it goes on…?”

The guy pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled. “It’s a job,” he informed Bond, “It pays better than being a kiss-o-gram and actually I get more wo-“

His explanation was cut off by Bond, who scoffed, “It’s more dangerous than being a kiss-o-gram!”

Q launched back into his earlier explanation, stating that the danger was way he got paid more and he didn’t mind much. He was, after all, paid to be the timid little computer geek tonight, which of course he enjoyed since it meant he didn’t have to dress up too much.

With that Bond looked him up and down once more. He was trying to form a question which Q replied too before he’d even started asking.

“Yes, this is how I normally dress. And yes, I am very good with computers. And no, I can’t get a better job in I.T. because surprisingly this pays more and look at me!” Bond did again, “I look about 12, and no company wants a’ jumped up little punk’ as a leading techie, do they?” The way Q put air quotes around jumped up little punk made Bond think someone had previously called him that when he was applying for high end I.T. jobs.

He went on to explain that the high spec computers he wanted to run cost more than he could afford doing any other job than this. He saw this as a means to an ends, and would eventually leave, but until he could turn his hobby into a profession he was stuck being at the “mercy” of men with the money. It was manipulation. Pure and simple. The only grey area was who was manipulating who? And apparently Q didn’t care for the answer so long as he had the newest upgrades for his laptop and what not.

Bond found himself so taken with the young techie, that he soon forgot, well, he could never forget about his target and the information he held, but he found he didn’t care much for him. That Q had now become his primary focus. He wanted to give him that dream equipment and relief him on this horrible job for life. He hoped it wouldn’t make him come across as a hopelessly romantic, so he never voiced his wish to Q. He looked at Q and felt that maybe everyone who heard his story shared his pipe dream.

**007: The Mission**

Blinking, Q woke up feeling a little groggy. He rolled over to find he was sharing the bed with a blonde muscle of a man. Q blinked again, trying to recall what happened the night before; the moments that lead up to this moment here and now. The muscle man turned over too, and now that they were face to face, memories of last night came flooding back to Q. It was his would-be-rescuer, although he was still unsure of how they got from that moment to this.

James woke in similar fashion, blinking but all remembering.

“Good morning, Q,” he whispered, as Q tried to blink away the sleep in his eye.

“Hello” he murmured back in a high pitched than he intended. Q reached over to the bed side table, grabbed his glasses and adjusted them on his face. He blinked again several times before turning back to Bond and smiling again. Bond makes idle small talk about how he’d not realised Q actually needed them - his glasses; how he thought they added to geek illusion he was trying to create. Q just can’t stop smiling.

The smile they shared made both of them think they could get used to this. Everything seemed so far away and the reasons they found themselves together; their jobs, are all but distance memories now. And Q felt has Bond’s breathe inches, like maybe he’ll ask another question; not that he minded, he loved that someone cares enough about him to ask questions like that; too take the time to get to know him. Or maybe he’ll stop with the small talk all together and let Q do the talking… By which he means let him do the job he is paid for. But then Bond’s phone is vibrating. Against the night stand it sounded worst. The buzzing echoing through the wood. But it sounds blissful, Q thinks when James finally answers, compared to what he can hear of the phone call from where he is sat.

M was pissed. It’s understandable really; her best agent has let a target slip through his fingers because he was distracted by a techie in distress. Of course M isn’t aware of the exact reason for Bond’s distraction, but it sounds like she’s very aware it could be of a sexual natural. James rolls his eyes; it’s not what he was doing. He had to rescue Q boy! He looked back at Q and half smiled. Q smiled back, adjusting his glasses once again; he’s fidgeting; bored, Bond can tell. He’ll sort it later when he gets off the phone.

It takes longer than is strictly needed for M to impart how pissed she is at Bond. And it’s not like he doesn’t know already. He tells her, with some cockiness and charm that he, being the top class agent he is, only needs another 24 hours to fix the problems he created. He is, of course, given the 24 hours he requested.

Q coughed. Bond turned to face him and was about to open his mouth; he’d no idea what to say, so was quite thankful that his phone started ringing again despite the long sigh and eye roll he gave overdramatically. He answered with without checking the number on screen, assuming it would be M giving him further directions.

The voice that answered was oddly familiar. As the voice continued to impart an empty threat, the usual ‘you have something of mine and I want it back’, Bond realised it was the target of last night’s failed mission. He looked back at Q; not failed. There was a lull in the conversation. Bond had been stating at Q, then the voice was telling him all about that young boy with the curly hair in the nerdy glasses, looking very much the part, probably because he was the part.

It came as no surprise really; Q had already stated he was only in this job for the technology he could buy. Bond guessed it wasn’t a far leap from being obsessed with the latest update to creating it.

“A master hacker, and more. He is very important to me, and I’d like him back in one piece. He has served his purpose and more. Certainly more than I expected of him.”

Bond bit his lip in silent reflection. All the talk of wanting to get out of the job, was that really Q talking? Or was that actually what he was paid to do? Distract Bond with his depressing story of sex slavery while being as much of a target as his actual mark with these hacking codes. Was that actually what he was paid for? Why he’d followed Bond? Was Bond really that naive that he fell for it?

All the questions remained unanswered in his mind while his target droned on and on about how much easier his master plan to destroy MI6 and then the world, was going to be so much easier now. It was the closing statement; one he’d heard time and time again. He turned to Q.

“It looks like we both have some explaining to do.”

Q blushed under Bond’s gaze. He filled Bond in on the actual nature of his hobby; he’s very good with his hands in more than one sense. The technology he had and was capable of making could bring down the government and that was probably the real reason behind his employment.

“So you’re more like a master assassins?” Q guessed.

“You’re not entirely wrong” Bond informed him. Q’s curiosity got the better of him and after asking a series of questions about the mission, he decided to help. Of course, Bond dismissed him immediately; the field is no place for a guy like Q, well looking like Q…

Q informed him that all he needs is his laptop and a cup of Earl Grey, and that’s when Bond finds himself driving across town to pick up Q’s equipment.

Q handed him a small device, which he turned in his hands a few times.

“It’s a communication device”

“It’s… tiny!”

“I know. I invented it”, Q smiled. Then after a cough he added, “It’ll probably need road testing first, though, just to-“

Bond cut him off, “We don’t have time for that,”

Q nodded and continued to set up his tablet, laptop and other equipment. Bond watched as he did so. When Q was all set up, Bond left to begin the mission he should have started the night before. When Q was doing his job, he did it well, but he would occasionally spill back into his call boy ways and try for phone sex.

“Kinda busy here, Q”

“Me too… I can’t find you” Bond could hear typing in his ear and imagined Q was hacking into nearby CCTV to find him, those long, skinny fingers dancing lightly over the keys as he did, “Where are you?”

Bond sighed, mostly out of frustration for thinking about Q in such a way, “I know where I am, Q. Where is-?”

“Oh, there you are” Bond could actually hear Q’s smile. “Turn left”, Q directed.

“There is no left!”

“There is,” insisted Q. He watched as the tracker in the communication device flickered on screen, showing a left turn, “Told you!” Bond couldn’t tell if that was a smug response or one of relief. They continued the mission. Bond found Q’s occasional dip into call boy was enjoyable in the end; a light bit of banter helped take his mind of a few things.

The killing apparently all done, Q got to work setting up a Trojan Horse of some kind; he was telling Bond what he was doing as he did, but it was all lost of him. Too much jargon and the patter of his fingers across the keys was all Bond could hear.

Apparently the fire wall Q had set up released an actually fire which Bond found himself smiling at fondness. He felt proud of Q, and with the sound of his laughter ringing in his ear, couldn’t stop smiling.

“Oh, Q, I could bloody kiss you!”

“It will get rid of all trace of you and-” Q cut himself short of the in depth explanation he’d planned. Bond guessed his over excited reaction he finally hit Q. He smiled to himself imaging Q all lost for words. There was no fingers tapping away, no smug reply, just Q’s sigh and then silence.

“You don’t need to justify your action’s Q,” Bond began, “That was genius. Really!”

“Bond,” Q sounded stern and serious. Bond stopped laughing. “Get here, now”

**M: The job**

His phone hadn’t stopped buzzing since Q had blown up bad guy HQ, and Q wondered if he should answer it. He told Bond already to get his arse back here, in various forms, sometimes using more suggestive language, sometimes more demanding and stern. He hoped Bond picked up on the urgency in his voice.

Q’s phone had also buzzed, but he ignored it. He guessed it was his former boss requesting his help to get rid of Bond, but Q had already decided to switch sides and team up with Bond to get rid of him. Q’s phone had stopped buzzing the very second Bond’s started; the second he heard the explosion from Bond’s ear-piece.

Bond came in, blood and mud all over his face and Q decided it was best not too asked. He continued to type away on his laptop after adjusting his glasses and smiling at the older man. Bond sat on the edge on the bed and was about to say something to Q, when his phone buzzed for, what felt to Q like, the millionth time that hour.

“How did you do it, Bond?” Q heard a stern female voice almost yell at him, “I want to know!”

Bond winced, rubbed his forehead and passed the phone to Q, mumbling that it was for him, while M repeats the question;

“Bond, tell me how you-?”

Q launched into a in depth description of what exactly he did, using far too much technical jargon, and Bond is both overly confused and maybe a little turned on - No, that feeling is whole body confusion, nothing more. Bond got up and started to pace; Q was taking forever. He handed the phone back to Bond without saying anything.

“Does that answer your question, mam?” Bond’s smug grin could be heard, and he flashed Q a genuine smile.

“Who was that Bond… I want a name!”

“I don’t have a name,” Bond was honest, but he still had that smug grin that was evident in his voice.

“Bond!”

“I have a letter. . ” and Bond let out a chuckle, because really? A letter? And honestly that letter, in his line of work meant quartermaster and well, this boy, Q, had been more than a brilliant quartermaster. Although Bond missed the exploding pens and awesome cars of his previous quartermasters. He sighed. “Q” he shrugged.

“I want him brought back here-“

“But he’s like 12!” Bond protested.

“He just single handed-“

“Oh, really? And, what was my role in that exactly?” He sighed sarcastically. M knew exactly what he was getting at and choose to ignore it.

“I’ll be the judge of that”

“But he’s still got spots!” Bond protested.

“My complexion is hardly relevant,” Q whispered into Bond’s free ear.

“But your competency is!” Bond replied without moving the phone from his ear or facing Q.

“Bring him in!” demanded M, before hanging up. Bond dropped the phone on the bed and turned to Q.

“Age is no guarantee of efficiency”

“And youth is no guarantee of innovation”

Q felt his heart sink. He’d shown innovation; a fire wall that actually set a wall on fire and blew up a whole building or two, was actually inspired. Surely he’d show enough innovation.

“I invented-“

“That’s nice” Bond cut him off before he’d even began to explain and went into the bathroom, pretended to be busy cleaning his teeth while Q wondered how he could prove his worth to the man he’d followed to the bathroom, because apparently today wasn’t enough.

“What have I done?” he asked in innocence and naivety.

Bond didn’t know. He couldn’t even try and put it words.

“You got everything you wanted, why are you-?”

Q licked his lips, “Well, not everything,” he smiled a little while looking Bond up and down.

“A new job, with all the computer chips, hipster glasses, and maths teacher cardigans you can buy and you didn’t even need too-“

“I was only acting,” Q put in quickly. He couldn’t work out why Bond was so hung up. He had to work damn hard for what he had.

“Are you acting now?” Bones asked.

Q knew damn sure he wasn’t. For all that Bond had given Q it wasn’t enough. Computer clips, hipster glasses and “maths teacher cardigans” were no longer important. The jobs wasn’t important. Every kiss in the past had lead to those little things, but where was no telling where a kiss with Bond would lead. But he wanted it so bad.

Bond raised an eyebrow, trying to encourage Q to answer. Q looked more withdrawn than Bond had ever seen him. He didn’t suit silent and still. He was always up to something; always planning, or typing, or even sipping on tea. Even when quiet in speech he was animated. Bond had hit a nerve.

“You’re not…” Bond trailed off.

Q looked up then, searching for Bond’s eye but also trying to keep from his stare. Bond dropped his toothbrush, it drew Q’s attention.

“I’m not,” he whispered to the toothbrush.

“All you have…Or will have when we get back, and you still want more. You want-“

“To kiss you,” Q mumbled, and nodded.

The only time Q didn’t need to kiss a man to get those little pretties he held so dear, and it was the only time he wanted too. It was all he wanted right now.

“Then what are you waiting you, kid?”

Q’s face lit up like a child at Christmas. Grinning, Bond closed the space between them. Q finally was going to get want he wanted, everything he needed and more. For him, this kiss was the greatest prize.


End file.
